Recommended by Danielle Wirsansky

Funny, vivid, and warmly reflective, Summer of 69 Job captures one formative summer with humor and humility. Helms turns camp mishaps, culture shock, and historic moments into a lively coming-of-age monologue full of perspective and heart.

Dark, delicious, and sharply contemporary, #Cooked turns influencer performance into a chilling spiral. Gauthier’s monologue blends public persona, private pressure, and grisly invention into a gripping piece that keeps twisting to the end.

Wildly absurd and deliciously punny, Ice Cream Stool Pigeon turns a police interrogation into pure farcical joy. Martin commits fully to the silliness, balancing noir stakes with creamy comic chaos that would melt an audience with laughter.

Witty, elegant, and deliciously theatrical, Swimming at the Ritz gives Pamela Harriman a grand, complex reckoning. Leipart captures her glamour, survival instinct, and razor-sharp intelligence in a two-hander that promises a feast for actors and audiences alike.

Tender, imaginative, and deeply moving, Blind Spot uses a supernatural premise to explore grief, connection, and grace. Ray-Macke crafts an affecting two-hander with heart, drawing its characters toward a quietly beautiful act of redemption.

Smart, surprising, and richly human, Truck Stop Wisdom upends assumptions at every turn. Ruyle gives each character complexity and bite, turning an awkward anniversary getaway into a compelling, accessible three-hander full of heart and reversals.

Tender, eerie, and beautifully melancholic, GLOWWORMS unfolds as both a love story and a ghost story, each deepening the other. Loftus writes with quiet grace, drawing us into a final reckoning shaped by loneliness, devotion, and longing.

Brief, precise, and surprisingly moving, All That We Deserve transforms an ordinary workplace clash into a compact meditation on empathy. Martin uses repetition with real skill, building to an emotional turn that feels both earned and deeply humane.

Funny, inventive, and painfully relatable, Quitting is, Quite Literally, a Bitch personifies temptation in a way that feels both theatrical and true. Thompson captures the maddening push-pull of addiction with humor, tension, and real bite.

Spare, haunting, and beautifully elliptical, Something Very Real distills pain, memory, and the struggle toward forgiveness into a stark, resonant exchange. Triplett trusts silence and ambiguity, and the result lingers like something half-remembered but deeply felt.